


Kiss Me

by whatabeautifulmess



Category: Glee
Genre: Cheerio!Kurt, F/F, Kicker!Blaine, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 02:43:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatabeautifulmess/pseuds/whatabeautifulmess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt likes Blaine. Blaine likes Kurt. Problem is, they're both idiots. Luckily, Santana knows just what to do...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Me

"Santana, what the hell are you doing?"

Santana turned around in the doorway of the Lima Bean, eyes widened in faux-innocence as she looked back at Kurt.

"I'm going to have coffee with my friends," she said.

"But, Santana," Kurt said, "you kind of hate me."

Santana sighed. "Look, Hummel, let's get this straight: I don't hate you. Sure, you annoy the hell out of me sometimes with your non-stop whining, but I actually like you, and I'm glad you re-joined the Cheerios with me and Britts. You're one of my best friends."

"Thank you, Santana," Kurt said softly. "That means a lot. And I love you too."

"Okay, let's cut the sentimentality crap," Santana said quickly, holding up a hand as if she could physically halt Kurt's words. "I needs me some coffee." Kurt sighed, accepting defeat once again in his endeavour to get Santana to talk about _feelings_ , and traipsed into the Lima Bean after Brittany.

It was packed, and Kurt's face fell as he glanced around. "Santana, this is ridiculous. All the tables are taken."

"There are seats there," Brittany said, pointing. Kurt followed her gaze, then immediately wished he hadn't. It took an immense amount of self-control not to turn around and walk straight back out into the chilly wind and pouring rain.

"Perfect, Britt!" Santana said, beaming. "Let's go."

Brittany and Santana tripped over to the only table with any empty seats, their little fingers linked. Kurt trailed after them reluctantly, unwilling to go and sit there; if he did, he would have to sit opposite Blaine Anderson, look into his pretty hazel eyes and find himself rendered utterly incapable of coherent speech. He really didn't want that to happen: despite being co-captain of the Cheerios and one of the most popular guys at McKinley High, Kurt always felt inexplicably tongue-tied around Blaine. Perhaps it was because he was incredibly kind as well as being gorgeous and the star of the McKinley High Titans. With Blaine as kicker, they'd won their first game all year.

"All right, Anderson," Santana said as the three cheerleaders reached his table. "Mind if we sit here?"

"No, be my guest, girls…Kurt," Blaine said, smiling and gesturing with one hand. Santana and Brittany slid into seats side-by-side, but Kurt couldn't. If he did, he would almost certainly become a blithering, babbling mess, and that really didn't fit in with his plan to impress Blaine. There was also the risk that he would start to scream abuse at Santana for getting him into this mess (because this had to have been planned, and no way had Brittany had anything to do with it), and that wasn't generally considered socially acceptable. Instead, he volunteered to go and get the coffees and settled for sending his 'friend' viciously-worded texts: _Santana Maria Lopez, what the fuck do you think you're doing?_

_**From: Santana** _

_Waiting for you to come back with my coffee and talking to this delightful hobbit that we stumbled upon._

_**To: Santana** _

_Don't play dumb, it doesn't suit you. You know damn well I've liked Blaine for the best part of a year._

_**From: Santana** _

_Hush whining, Lady Lips. I've heard about your epic love for Anderson plenty. And trust me, he likes you too._

_**To: Santana** _

_Don't joke about these things, Lopez._

_**From: Santana** _

_I'm not. He has not shut up about you since you left. Seriously, just yabber, yabber, yabber…_

_**To: Santana** _

_Really?_

_**From: Santana** _

_Really. Now put away the hopeful face._

_**From: Santana** _

_Oh, and he finished his coffee. Maybe get another? Medium drip._

_**To: Santana** _

_I'm head-over-heels in love with this guy, Santana; I know his coffee order._

Kurt turned his phone off and stowed it in his pocket before stepping up to the counter and ordering four coffees: a grande non-fat mocha for himself, two lattes for Santana and Brittany, and Blaine's medium drip. He balanced them between his splayed fingers as he walked back over to the table, trying to stop his hands shaking so he didn't spill the drinks.

"There you go, girls." Kurt handed Santana and Brittany their coffees as he slipped into the only vacant seat, right next to Blaine. Of course. "Blaine, I, uh, I noticed you'd finished your coffee," he said, ignoring Santana's snort. "I got you another. A medium drip; I hope that's okay." He slid the coffee cup towards Blaine across the table, and Blaine smiled widely at him.

"Perfect, thank you. How did you know my coffee order?"

"Lucky guess, I suppose."

Blaine looked at him intently, eyes twinkling as he took a sip from his coffee. Kurt blushed a little under Blaine's frank gaze, glancing at his cup as Santana coughed suggestively. He raised his eyes to glare at her and kicked her under the table, but she didn't even flinch.

"So, Anderson," Santana said, smirking. "Looking forward to the game on Friday?"

Blaine shrugged. "I guess. It'll just be the same plays as last time, though."

"Finn has no imagination, it's true," Kurt said, rolling his eyes.

Blaine turned to face Kurt, their knees brushing together. "Are you going to be there on Friday, Kurt?" he asked, resting his cheek on his hand.

"Of course. Every football team needs cheerleaders, right?"

"In that case," Blaine said, grinning, "roll on Friday!"

Kurt felt his face get hot, a light pink blush staining his cheeks as Santana grinned broadly, arching one eyebrow. Blaine's eyes flickered between Santana and Kurt for a moment, smirking, before he glanced down at his watch.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. My grandparents are in town and we're going out for dinner. Goodbye ladies. I'll see you tomorrow in French, Kurt, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Blaine smiled and winked, waving at Kurt over his shoulder as he left the Liam Bean. Santana and Brittany turned in unison to stare at Kurt.

"And you didn't believe me when I told you he liked you," Santana said, pointing one finger in Kurt's direction.

"I didn't imagine that, did I?" Kurt asked. "Blaine Anderson was flirting with me, wasn't he?"

"Sure was, Baby Gay."

"Of course he was, Kurt," Brittany said. "You're really hot and a super good kisser, and now you're on the Cheerios with us again, you're super popular too."

"Thank you, Britt," Kurt said, catching hole of her hand. "But I don't know what I'm going to do. I never know what to say to him."

"It's simple, Hummel," Santana said. "You go into French tomorrow and gets your flirt on. Anderson won't know what's hit him."

* * *

The next morning in first-hour French, Kurt's head was on the desk, buried in his arms as he tried to wake up a little. As such, he heard rather than saw the seat next to him slide across the floor as someone flopped into the hard plastic chair.

"You all right, Kurt?" the person asked. His voice alone had Kurt sitting bolt upright, checking that his hair was still in place.

"Oh, hi Blaine," Kurt said, trying to sound casual. "What are you doing here? I thought you sat at the back with Mike Chang."

Blaine grinned. "I used to, it's true. But I managed to persuade Madame Hollande to let me switch. Everyone knows you're amazing at French – practically fluent – so sitting with you should help me _tons_. But, really?" Blaine leaned forwards, his face very close to Kurt's. "I just wanted to talk to you more."

"Really?" Kurt got out. Blaine Anderson should not be allowed to do those sorts of things. It wasn't fair, making him forget the English language like that.

"Uh-huh. You're cool, Kurt."

Mme Hollande started the lesson then, preventing Kurt from asking Blaine what, exactly, he meant by that. After reminding the class that they would be giving an oral presentation next week, she instructed them to partner up and practice answering unprepared questions.

Kurt sighed almost imperceptibly, fully expecting Blaine to cave to Mike Chang's slightly pleading, desperate expression from across the room and go and partner his friend. When he turned to search for someone else to work, however (quite a common occurrence, as, despite Kurt's popularity, people didn't want to partner someone so much better than they were), he found Blaine staring at him.

"Partners?" he asked, his eyes sparkling. Kurt nodded, trying not to seem too eager.

"Of course. Alors…Qu'est-ce que tu vas faire ce week-end?" Kurt asked, slipping easily into French.

Blaine's eyes widened slightly in shock, but he recovered quickly and replied in French considerably more hesitant and less well-accented than Kurt's: "Rien de spécial. Je dois jouer au foot, et faire mes devoirs. C'est tout."

"Très bien."

"Kurt?"

"Oui?"

"Veux-tu aller à la fête après le match? Avec moi?" Blaine asked, threading his fingers together and looking nervous for perhaps the first time ever.

"Oui," Kurt said breathlessly. "Bien sûr."

"Excellent!"

Kurt could only attempt in vain to hide his broad smile as Blaine stumbled his way through a question about Kurt's favourite type of music.

* * *

Waiting outside the locker room after the match on Friday night, Kurt bounced on the balls of his feet, practically vibrating with excitement. The game had been great, with the Titans winning at the last minute thanks to Blaine. Kurt had cheered extra hard when Blaine scored that final field goal, earning him an infuriatingly smug smirk from Santana; but he honestly didn't care. His whole body buzzed with the knowledge that he was going to the party with Blaine Anderson. Blaine had asked him out – he had to like him, right? Just the thought of Blaine maybe liking Kurt as much as he liked Blaine had Kurt in a tailspin.

Kurt felt his attention slip, but someone cleared their throat, dragging him back to earth. Kurt blinked, clearing his vision, and found Blaine standing in front of him, his grin broad and as gorgeous as ever.

"Nice to have you back, Kurt," he said with a smirk once he noticed that Kurt was focused on him.

"Oh, don't tease," Kurt said. "I just got a bit distracted."

"By someone other than me?" Blaine asked, sounding scandalised. "I'm insulted."

"Oh, don't worry. I _was_ distracted by you, actually," Kurt said, his calm voice belying his nerves. "This - " he gestured between them briefly with one hand " - is just a little surreal, y'know?"

Blaine scoffed. "Are you honestly trying to tell me that someone as gorgeous as you hasn't been asked out before? You should have guys all over you."

If Kurt's head had been spinning before, he was surprised he was still standing after that.

"Yeah, well, in case you hadn't noticed, Lima isn't exactly over run with guys who are gay _and_ out. I think it's just us here. Anyone else is so far in the closet they're having tea with Mr Tumnus."

Blaine chuckled. "So you're gorgeous, kind and now hilarious too? Why didn't I ask you out before?"

"I don't know; why didn't you?"

"Probably because I assumed that a guy like you couldn't possibly be single," Blaine said. "But then Santana mentioned something to me last week…"

"I am going to kill her," Kurt muttered.

"Huh?"

"Don't worry about it," Kurt said, shaking his head. "Now, are we going to stand here all evening or what? Because if so, then you might want to rethink your definition of 'party'."

"Demanding, now, too."

"Oh, man up, Anderson," Kurt said, wondering how on earth he was managing to say these things. "You wanted to take me out, now take me out."

"My pleasure," Blaine said, his eyes intent as he grabbed Kurt's hand in his own and slotted their fingers together (and it made Kurt a little dizzy, how they fit perfectly, like they'd been made for this), dragging Kurt along beside him as he made for the doors.

* * *

"Oh my God."

Kurt threw his head back and laughed happily, leaning back until his cheek brushed against Blaine's. They were dancing together, Blaine's chest pressed close against Kurt's back and his arms wrapped tight and warm around Kurt's waist. They swayed in time with the music pounding through Puck's house, and Kurt couldn't remember being this happy in a long time.

"What?" Blaine whispered, his breath warm on Kurt's ear. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter, Blaine. I just…I'm really glad to be here with you."

"Oh. Well, I'm glad you're here too. I really like you, you know?"

Kurt had to bite his lip hard to stop himself grinning insanely wide. "I really like you too."

"Yeah?" Blaine sounded as if he didn't believe a word Kurt was saying. Kurt turned his head slightly to catch Blaine's eye and nodded.

"Of course I do," he said. "You're amazing, Blaine."

Blaine spun Kurt around in his arms, tipping his head a little higher to look right into Kurt's eyes. "You're pretty amazing yourself, Kurt. I guess I'm glad I asked you out after all."

"Oh, really now?" Kurt asked, his eyebrows raised but his mouth twisted in suppressed amusement.

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"Well then, I suppose I'm quite glad I said yes."

"See," Blaine crowed, "I knew you liked me!"

"'Cause I _told_ you."

"I'm still taking it," Blaine said. Then his eyebrows crumpled, knitting themselves together, and he dropped his gaze.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked. "Are you okay?"

Blaine glanced back up. "No! No, I'm fine. Everything's great. But, Kurt…can I…can I kiss you?"

He looked so nervous and unsure, like Blaine Anderson never did, that Kurt felt his heart clench and his stomach fizz. "I'd like that."

And then Blaine was kissing him, his lips soft and warm on Kurt's. The fizzing in Kurt's stomach tripled in intensity as he kissed Blaine back, his arms reaching up to snake themselves around Blaine's neck. He melted a little, knees buckling as the kiss deepened.

Maybe he wouldn't have to kill Santana after all. He wouldn't ever admit it to her, but sometimes she did know what she was doing.


End file.
